


A Gold Rose Animated

by definitelydivergent



Series: A Gold Rose [1]
Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Gen, Original Character(s), POV Original Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:00:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22060702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/definitelydivergent/pseuds/definitelydivergent
Summary: Remember that private police force of 100 men that serves the Ootori family? Faceless, common bodyguards from some kind of private contractor?That's what we want you to think.Nakamura Miyako faces all the typical challenges of an Ouran Academy student, from academics to the etiquette obstacle course of going to school with the sons and daughters of Japan's "elite." But on top of all that, Miyako is the heiress of the Setsuko Corps, a group that has served the Ootori family for centuries. Like her relatives, Miyako is trained in more than the right fork to use and how to broker a business deal, she knows how to take down a fully grown, fully armed man with nothing but her bare hands. She knows how to scale a building with no equipment. Miyako is Kyoya's covert, personal bodyguard.This fic introduces an OC I have thought about for years, using Ouran's anime as a framework. I hope to write a fic in the future which explores the character more deeply in the context of the manga.
Relationships: Suoh Tamaki/Original Female Character(s), eventually Haruhi and one of the hosts
Series: A Gold Rose [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1587823
Kudos: 9





	1. Enter Center Stage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Miyako recounts a normal day at Ouran Academy—class with Kyoya and Tamaki, club after school. But a new transfer student will shake things up—looks like this isn’t a normal day after all!

_Tired. So tired._ As I wait for Kyoya, I relapse into my thoughts. He will be back soon, but I for now I rest my chin on my hand, my eyes almost slipping closed. I shouldn’t sleep, I should stay alert. Before I can chastise myself for being drowsy, I’m jolted awake.

“Mia-chan!!” The voice sounds like a melody, but I flinch as if it’s nails against a chalkboard.

I turn around in my seat to see cerulean eyes, opened wide. Suoh Tamaki is _very_ close to my face right now, perched on the desk behind mine. Those who know me well might notice my breath hitch, but Tamaki seems to observe only my growing grimace. I draw back from him as I find my voice, “What?” The word is short. Curt. Like many of my responses to Tamaki.

“You’re here early today!” He smiles beautifully at me.

“Kyoya and I arrive early to school every morning. We get here twenty minutes before any of the other students. You are the one here earlier than usual. Kyoya is in the bathroom if you want to talk to him.”

“But why would I want to go find Kyoya when I’m talking to you?”

“Because I was looking forward to some relaxing quiet before class.”

“Me too!”

I sigh, “And it’s hard to get that when you’re here.”

He stares at me.

“Suoh, please leave.” My voice is flat.

He continues to stare at me, but his face grows disappointed, “Mia-chan, I told you, you can call me Tamaki.”

“And I told _you_ to stop calling me ‘Mia-chan.’ You don’t even accent it right. It should be Mi _ya,_ not Mi-uh.”

“But my darling—”

“Tamaki, you’re not usually here this early.” My charge walks in, and I release a breath gratefully as he diverts the blonde’s attention away from me. Kyoya probably saw my tense stature from across the room. He distracts Suoh now, leaving me with a moment to relax.

I am not, however, a very relaxed person, so my foot still taps in rapid succession as I wait for the classroom to fill. The second hand ticks by, but it feels like I’m sitting and listening to the boys talk for hours. I’ve known Tamaki since we were both little kids. And, Kyoya, well I’ve known Kyoya for a long time. In some ways, I’ve practically known him since he was born.

If you’ve heard Ootori group, then you may be familiar with a that force of one hundred men they employ. Faceless, common bodyguards from some kind of private contractor.

That’s what we want you to think.

* * *

“That test killed me!” Tamaki exclaims as the bell rings, signaling the end of another school day at Ouran, but the beginning of club time, which sometimes seems to take more of our attention.

“It wasn’t that bad.” I avoid looking at Tamaki as I position myself in my typical spot, walking a little behind Kyoya, on his left. Tamaki bounces up and down next to me, bubbling with energy. I may be focusing my attention forward and swiveling my eyes as we pass doorways, but the bouncing boy is distracting in my peripheral.

“Well that’s no fair, you’re fluent in English Mia-chan!!” He pouts.

“I’m required to take the class, Suoh, everyone is.” I don’t bother to tell him not to call me “Mia-chan.” If I spoke up every time it happened, I’d lose my voice. And it’s not as if I’m perfect with Japanese honorifics—not growing up here left me a bit lost on the sometimes intuitive-seeming specifics of the titles, and when to use them.

“Unless they test out!”

Kyoya interjects, “Which she opted not to do, so she could be in the class with me, Tamaki.”

“Well, I’m glad, because it means I have another class with you too, Mia-chan!”

I sigh. No matter how much I distance myself from him, he keeps trying to get in.

It’s not long before we reach the familiar door of Music Room #3. I reach for the doorknob, but Tamaki shoots out his hand to stop me, “I want to show Kyoya something before you come in! It’s gonna be great!” His smile is childish and it reminds me of the old days.

I glance over at Kyoya and he nods, so I roll my eyes at Tamaki, giving permission to run ahead with Kyoya. When they disappear inside the club room, I lean against the door, closing my eyes…

It’s strange to hear almost nothing coming from the Music Room. Usually it’s full of fangirlish squealing and the boys’ flattering phrases. Yet, in this moment, I feel a stillness. My eyes close, and I begin to picture the room actually being used for a band or choir practice—

“You’re early.” Not one, but two voices interrupt my thoughts.

I squint one eye open to see the Hitachiin brothers have just arrived, their faces bored and hair styled into their signature symmetrical parts. I must be more tired than I thought; I usually hear them approach.

“Hey, Hikaru-kun. Kaoru-kun. Tamaki and Kyoya are looking at something inside.”

Hikaru nods, “The boss said something about a special surprise—”

“—when we saw him earlier today.” Kaoru finishes.

I nod. A few seconds of silence pass and I click my tongue. It’s not actually all that often that I am “alone” with the twins. But then, I’ve never necessarily been the most interesting toy to them anyways. Besides, of course, their fascination with egging Tamaki on towards me.

“So Miyako-sempai,” starts Hikaru, his expression changing, and his twin catching on fast as they speak in unison.

“The boss was talking about how much you would gggguuussshh over whatever they went to look at.” The boys wiggle their eyebrows.

I contemplate a reply, but am interrupted by a high voice, “Stop teasing Yako-chan!” I feel a small pair of arms wrap around my thighs.

A wry smile comes onto my face as I pat the blonde head now snuggled into my hip, “I’m okay Honey-sempai.”

“Good.” He hugs tighter before letting go, and I turn to see him skip up to a tall and dark figure.

“Hey Mori-sempai.”

The gentle giant nods at me.

“Evergyone, you’re here!” The door bursts open and Suoh bounds out towards us. Nothing seems differnet in the club room, except for the strange machine Kyoya is inspecting.

“Uh boss?” An orange head tilts.

The second follows, “What is that?”

Suoh clears his throat, “Alright, _lady_ and gentlemen, today we have a simple, but beautiful treat for our lovely guests! A classic rose petal swirl entrance. The poses outlined on this visual aid are centered around, me, the Host Club king,” he pulls a whiteboard filled with over-the-top-notes seemingly out of nowhere, “will be accented by the floating beauty of rose petals as our little pups flow through the doors. The club will proceed as usual, with each of us hosts meeting our scheduled _mademoiselles_ and Mia-chan manning her usual post as a lovely lady to help, chat, and advise our guests!”

I allow myself to raise my eyebrows at his gimmicks, debating in my mind whether to consider him egotistical or thoughtful. I end up settling on a combination and tuning out in the meantime to examine the device. It seems to be covered in electrical fans and there’s a large container of sorts with an opening labeled, “INSERT FLOWERS OR CONFETTI HERE.” There’s some dials and lights that I can’t quite understand at the moment—

“—it will be great! Right, Mia-chan?!”

“Euh, what?”

“Aw, my little love, dazed by my beauty?” My lack of attention apparently doesn’t bruise the blonde (this time).

“Are we sure this machine is going to work?” Kyoya interjects. “Should we test it first?”

“That is an excellent idea Kyoya!” Tamaki prances in place and spins his way over to the machine in question. “Everyone get in your places!”

We cross to where he waits, trying to figure out where he wants us to stand, bumping into each other a bit before he’s satisfied with the formation. A whirring noise starts up as the machine is activated.

“Alright, get ready, get set, pose!”

As we take our positions, we stare at the closed door as rose petals surround us.

And even though there’s some time before any guests should be arriving, the roses clear to reveal a figure entering the room. Entering our lives… 

He is small in stature and dressed in, well _not_ an Ouran uniform. Huge glasses obscure half his face, and brown hair sticks up around his head.

An awkward instance of silence abounds, and I am suddenly aware of the analog clock’s ticking.

The boy is pushed up against the doors, almost as if in fear. His voice squeaks out, “This is a host club?”

The twins seem to register their tongues first, “Oh wow, it’s a boy.”

“Hikaru, Kaoru, I believe this young man is in the same class as you isn’t he?” Kyoya asks.

I scrunch up my face, attempting to remember if I’ve ever seen the kid’s face before. I’ve poured over sometimes seemingly endless student profiles in my duties, but I can’t conjure him up.

“Yeah, but he’s shy. He doesn’t act very sociably, so we don’t know much about him.”

Kyoya smirks with a satisfied sound of recognition. I am even more confused now. I actually miss the next thing he says.

But Tamaki’s surprised comment makes me do a double take, “You must be Fujioka Haruhi!” He goes on but—

but Fujioka Haruhi—

is a _girl._

I remember being surprised when I got to her profile. We don’t always have a scholarship student, so the whole school seemed to know about it before the year even started. I look once again at the figure in front of us. I can see it now. I can also feel a stare and I turn to see Kyoya looking at me, silently asking.

I nod, _yes Kyoya, I know._

He smirks again and I turn my attention back to the girl. Suoh is ranting about poor people. I consider interrupting but Fujioka turns to leave.

Honey, however, grabs her, “Hey! Come back here, Haru-chan. You must be like a super hero or something, that’s so cool!”

Not used to Honey’s touchy-feelyness, Fujioka looks taken aback, “I’m not a hero, I’m an honors student.” Then she blows up, “AND WHO ARE YOU CALLING HARU-CHAN?!”

Honey starts crying and Mori hugs him, but Tamaki seems unfazed by the girl’s outburst, “I never imagined the famous scholar—would be so openly gay.” He goes on to describe each of the boys’ host archetypes before invading her personal space.

Fujioka literally leaps back, out of his arms, and begins to fly back. Reflexes kicking in, I begin to move to get over to her, but before I make it more than a few steps in her direction—

Crash!

The pale blue pieces shatter to the ground, as our whites widen in surprise.

_Oh dear._

The twins sigh as they pop up on either side of her, “We were going to feature that Renaissance vase in an upcoming school auction—”

“—Well now you’ve done it commoner, the bidding on that vase was supposed to start at 8 million yen.”

Fujioka yelps and falls to the floor. She begins to hectically calculate before looking up, “I’m gonna have to pay you back.”

The twins shrug, “With what money?” As they berate her lack of uniform, I move in front of her and offer a hand.

“Thank you.” Her voice is soft, and her grip firm as I lift her to a standing position.

“Well, Tamaki,” I turn, hearing Kyoya’s voice, “what do you think we should do?”

Haruhi starts again, and spins. I reach out to her shoulder to keep her from falling over.

Tamaki sits down, ready for a dramatic pose, “There’s a famous saying, Fujioka: ‘When in Rome, do as the Romans do.’ ‘If you don’t have any money, you can pay with your body.’” His eyes open from their dramatic rest, “That means starting today,” a pause for effect, “you’re the Host Club’s dog.”

“Dog seems to be a cruel way of putting it.” I state as Fujioka pales. We crowd around her, Tamaki waving his hand in front of her face.

Honey pokes her a couple times, and she begins to wobble to the side. I catch her this time, and set her up, patting her shoulder, “Fujioka-san, are you okay?”

I look into her eyes. I know what it’s like to get roped into the Host Club.

This poor girl is in for some crazy times.

But God can bring good out of anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> The title of this chapter is a reference to Haruhi's entrance to Music Room 3.


	2. You Break It, You Buy It...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kiss! Kiss! Break a vase!  
> Fujioka Haruhi is now to be the “errand dog” of the Ouran High School Host Club…

“Kyoya?”

“Yes, Miyako?” He doesn’t look up from his laptop as he speaks.

“I’m going to ask you two questions.”

He continues to type.

“One: how is running errands like getting more coffee,” I jerk my head towards Fujioka rushing out of the room, “going to pay back the club for the vase?”

“Simple. Fujioka’s assistance will cut down on things like delivery costs and other grunt work we would normally have to pay for.”

I pause, “Okay? That makes sense. But why are we pretending not to know she’s a girl?”

Kyoya smirks (and continues typing), “Well, Fujioka didn’t contradict us.”

I open my mouth to ask Kyoya if he thinks Fujioka is transgender or nonbinary, but I am interrupted by an exclamation from Suoh.

“The princesses are coming!”

I close my eyes and quiet my breath. He’s right; I can hear them, the excited high voices and muted footsteps that arrive every afternoon, at the same tick of the clock. Preparation time has passed more quickly today, which makes sense considering our run-in with Fujioka (or, perhaps, hers—or his, crap, _theirs_ with the vase).

Kyoya closes his laptop and opens one of his many identical files, handing the host schedules to Hikaru, who whizzes by and begins to distribute them.

I ruffle Kyoya’s hair and catch a glance of his scowl as I make my way to my area of the room. Kyoya and the twins have their tables, Tamaki has his couches, Mori and Honey have their cake corner, and although I’m no host, I do have a schedule (which Hikaru has just thrown at me) and girls to see. I cross myself and sit on the cushioned window seat. Music Room #3 has multiple huge glass panel windows with deep, built-in sills (Suoh likes to pose on them), but only one is covered in cushions, blankets, and plushies. That’s the one I perch on while girls wanting to chat, to rant, or to be distracted sit at the table in front of me. I guess I’m here to be a friend. When I needed a reason to stay with Kyoya after school, it was briefly suggested that I be a host as well, but I refused. I am way too awkward to pull that off. I would feel like I was acting and deceiving guests the whole time. The thought of it is just—no.

The clock denotes exactly thirty seconds until those big doors open again, and I can see Suoh’s right fingers twitching excitedly. My bottom lip is between my teeth. Tick. Tick. Tick. As the moment approaches, his boyish smile is replaced with the suave mask.

“Welcome ladies!” the twins hold the doors open as the yellowclad customers bubble through.

Tamaki’s first guests shuffle over excitedly, and my teeth grip harder as he kisses their hands.

“Miyako-sempai!”

I turn my head and see a familiar guest. My mouth transitions into a smile, the girl pushing the blonde from my mind, “Hey Hitomi-chan. How are you today?”

Twenty minutes later, the ladies switch and I sigh to see that some of Tamaki’s girls are headed over to my table. If they want to talk about him, I will nod a lot and smile through it as usual. His new group, I note as the room fluctuates, includes Ayanokoji-san. While the others tend to show their excitement, she, as usual, walks cooly to the couches. It’s rare for one of Tamaki’s regulars to be restrained.

My eyes flick over to Kyoya; he’s smiling and offering coffee to a customer. Girls fawn over him, as they do over all of the hosts. But to me Kyoya has always been more like a brother. He is intelligent and observant, and, whether he admits it or not, caring. We are quite close, but I have never seen him through a romantic lens. I am almost certain that goes both ways.

Things by me are quiet (for Music Room #3 anyways); Asato-san, a first year student, is updating me on how her French quiz went—at least she was. She now looks distracted by a commotion at the couches. Fujioka appears to have returned, and girls are crowded around, craning to see something.

All of my guests are distracted now, “What’s going on over there Miyako-chan?”

“Is that the boy we heard about?”

“The Host Club’s new errand boy?”

“You already heard about Fujioka-san?” I question. It hasn’t even been an hour since the vase broke.

“We just heard that the club took in the new Honor student.” Asato-san explains.

“Well, I’m not sure if “took in” is an accurate phrase to describe it, but Fujioka-san looks a bit—ah, crowded. I’ll go check it out.”

I join the gathered gaggle of girls at the same time Kyoya and the twins do. The conversation appears to be about coffee? Fujioka holds a small container labeled “Hescafe Instant.”

“One hundred grams for three hundred yen?” Hikaru speaks up.

“That’s a lot less than we normally pay.” Kaoru says.

“I’ll go back and get something else.” Fujioka lowers her voice in mild exasperation, “Sorry I didn’t get you guys expensive coffee.”

“No, I’ll keep it.” Even Kyoya reels back in surprise when the words leave Tamaki’s lips. “I’m going to give it a try.” Pause for effect, “I will drink this coffee!”

There is applause. My eyebrows raise as I stand there.

“Alright, Haruhi, get over here make this stuff.”

Suddenly we are doing a “Commoner Coffee” presentation, as Fujioka fills elegant china with convenience store java. I hold in a cringe when Suoh offers to have a girl drink coffee from his mouth. But eventually I move on. Most of the hosts seem to have as well.

Eventually, the club recedes back into its norm, the twins weirdly flirting with each other, Honey and Mori displaying reversal charms, and Tamaki flattering his ladies. In my peripheral vision, I notice Kyoya and Haruhi talking while he takes a break. He jots notes in a folder.

From the day I met him, he always seemed to have something to write down, as if he wanted to remember every detail he experienced, file it away, and process like a computer. Even as we were introduced, he had a file in his hand. Labeled with my name…

He was shorter then, and his bangs were different, more unruly. His eyes were calculative. Eyes that had never seen mine in person, but had taken in my training videos for years.

“So you’re Miyako. You’re the girl I’ve been waiting for.”

I bowed as I prayed my Japanese would not falter in such an important moment, “It seems strange to me that we are only meeting now.”

“You received more information on me growing up than I did on you.”

“Did you really only get an update every few years?”

He nodded, “We are supposed to trust you are being trained well.”

“Miyako-chan, do wanna try some Commoner’s Coffee?” My eyes widen as I am shaken from my flashback. Asato-san has returned to my corner and is holding out a cup.

“Ah, I don’t care much for coffee, but thank you.”

She smiles anyways.

* * *

While I technically keep an eye on Kyoya during the entirety of club time, I do my best to give as much of my attention as possible to the customers I am speaking with. But I always look away when Tamaki has a tantrum—it’s a habit I find embarrassing, but not one I’ve had the heart to break.

I can’t tell what upset him, but I can see him across the music room, huddled into the fetal position in front of Fujioka-san. Predictably, Tamaki recovers almost immediately.

It seems I am not the only club member whose been drawn in by Tamaki’s antics—the rest of them have made their way over to him and Fujioka-san. As I stand up to follow suit, Tamaki begins yelling orders: “Hikaru! Kaoru!”

The twins grab Fujioka and run for the door.

_What?_

Tamaki is undeterred, “Kyoya! My hair stylist! Mori-sempai, go to the eye doctor and get him some contact lenses!”

I reach Tamaki just as Mori-sempai begins sprinting out the room, “Suoh, what on earth are you—”

“Mia-chan! Explain to the guests that we’re having a surprise makeover for the honors student!”

“Why are we doing that exactly?”

But Tamaki has already turned away to deal with Honey-sempai. I roll my eyes and sigh heavily before I approach the gathering yellow-clad crowd. My smile flicks on like a switch, “Ladies! It seems the honors student is undergoing a special host club makeover! Please excuse us, we’re going to be a little off schedule today!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> The title of this chapter references Haruhi's entrance to Music Room 3.


End file.
